


The One Who Lies Close to Me

by Chash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Loss of Parent(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 05:43:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6503275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Clarke's dad dies, she accidentally goes to Bellamy Blake for comfort. And then they just start being--friends. Who cuddle a lot. It's probably normal. She's pretty sure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One Who Lies Close to Me

Clarke never really would have pegged Bellamy Blake for a cuddler. Not that this is something she _thinks_ about, honestly. Bellamy is just--well, he's a person who has always existed in her life, it feels like. He's Octavia's brother, and he and Clarke have always basically gotten along, in the way of getting along that involves a lot of meaningless arguments, and, okay, a few arguments about really important stuff, like money and politics and privilege. But she likes him for those too, because if he never argued with her about shit like that, she'd be a lot less aware of how lucky she is to be rich and white, and a lot less prepared for talking about biphobia when other people start being assholes about that.

So, yeah, at the end of the day, Clarke comes down on Bellamy Blake being a good guy, but kind of--prideful. Stand-offish. Affectionate only when he can pretend he's not doing it. It's cute, but, again. Bellamy wouldn't be her go-to person for comfort, let alone for casual affection.

And then, she's fifteen, and her dad dies. She goes to the Blakes' house because Octavia's dad died two years ago, and she feels like the person who will understand best.

But it's Bellamy, eighteen and vaguely irritable, blinking down at her when the door opens.

"O's not home," he says. "Date."

There's something about how he says the word, annoyed but also a little proud, and the look of him, hair a mess and t-shirt full of holes, glasses halfway down his nose, like she woke him up from a nap and he just sort of shoved things on to get the door, that makes her completely fall apart.

"Holy shit," he says, when she starts crying into his chest, but there's barely any hesitation before his arms come up around her. "Hey, uh--" There's a pause as he pulls her in without letting her go, and she's only dimly aware of what's going on, but she ends up on the couch, basically in his lap, his hand rubbing soothing circles over her back. "Hey," he says, gentle. "I'd say it's okay, but if you're crying this much it probably isn't."

She laughs through the tears because--that's Bellamy, right there. Stumbling into saying the right thing. "I'm really sorry. I was looking for Octavia."

"That's fine. I can fill in until she gets home. Or I can call her, if you want."

"No, I don't want to ruin her date. Or your night. I'll just--" She tries to get up, and his arms tighten around her.

"I wasn't doing anything. It's not a problem. Don't go. You want to tell me what happened?"

Her mouth fills up with nothingness, this unreal, giant thing she doesn't know how to _say_. How can she just _tell people_ that her father is dead? She barely knows how to think it.

But she's not telling people; she's telling Bellamy. Even if Octavia's dad wasn't Bellamy's biological father, he loved him, and he misses him. Bellamy will understand too. So she swallows, burrows closer into him, takes a few breaths. His scent is more familiar than she would have expected, warm and a little spicy, comforting and safe. "My dad died."

His fingers grip the back of her shirt, involuntary, just for a second, and he tugs her closer. "Fuck. I'm so sorry."

She chokes on a laugh. "How fucked up is it that I was going to say _it's okay_? Just, like--that's what I always say when people say that. It's reflex. But it's not."

"Yeah, I never knew what to say either," he agrees. " _Thanks_ works pretty well. Pretty non-committal, and it ends the conversation." She feels his face in her hair as he pulls her closer, like he's trying to surround her, protect her. It's nice. "Do you want me to call O? You know she'll want to be here."

"I know. But--she'll be back soon, right?"

"Probably."

"Can I wait with you?"

"Yeah, of course." She's pretty sure he _kisses her hair_. Which is about the last thing she would have expected him to ever do, but--in a good way. "Let me know if I can do anything."

"TV, maybe?" 

"Sure." He finds the remote without letting go of her, finds a sitcom rerun. She realizes she's actually in his lap and feels kind of embarrassed, like--there's comfort, and there's sitting _in someone's lap_.

He doesn't protest as she gets off him, but she misses his warmth and steadiness almost instantly, so she curls into his side instead.

He puts his arm around her, draws her in close, and doesn't say a word.

When Octavia gets back, she's asleep, and she wakes up to Bellamy saying, low, "Her dad died. She told me not to call you," and she nearly cries from gratitude at not having to say it herself.

Things change with her and Bellamy after that. It's not a big change; he's still Octavia's brother, first and foremost, but she stops feeling like Octavia has to be around for her to hang out. She learns Bellamy's schedule; he's in trade school to get his electrician's certification part-time while he works, living at home to save on rent and because, Clarke's pretty sure, he worries about Octavia alone with their mother, who started drinking hard after Octavia's father died and never stopped.

Bellamy never invites Clarke over, but he always lets her in, and he always seems--she thinks he's happy to see her.

At first, she assumes the physical affection will wear off. That he's just still fretting over her after her dad died, his natural big brother impulses making him put his arm around her on the couch, to walk too close to her, lean in to tell her private jokes. 

And then she realizes it's the first anniversary of her dad's death, and she's on the Blakes' couch, Bellamy's head in her lap while she toys with his hair, and this definitely has nothing to do with that.

He's just _cuddly_ , and the thought makes her grin. She doesn't even feel bad about it; her dad would have thought it was funny too.

Aurora Blake dies when Clarke is a few weeks shy of eighteen, and it feels unfair and inevitable all at once. Octavia doesn't cry when she tells Clarke, but she still accepts a hug, and falls asleep with Clarke stroking her hair.

After, she goes downstairs for water and finds Bellamy on the couch, flicking through channels on the TV, never seeming to see any of them. She gets two glasses of water and sits down next to him, slotting into his side like she always does.

"Drink," she says. He looks alarmed, and she shakes her head. "It's water. You think I'd drink this much gin?"

His mouth tugs up in a smile. "I try not to judge your hobbies. It's your life."

"You definitely judge my hobbies. You judge everything."

He smiles down at his hands, unsteady. "Thanks. That's what I like to hear."

Once she's finished her own water, she wraps her arms around him, and he leans into it, hugging back. "What are you guys going to do?" she asks, soft. It's probably the most important question.

He sighs, rests his cheek against her hair. "It's only a few months before O turns eighteen. I can watch her until then. And after, but--legally it stops being an issue after that. She didn't leave a will, but it's not like she had much to leave us. We'll probably get a smaller place. Somewhere cheaper. This is a shitty house anyway."

Clarke worries her lip. "Are you going to be pissed if I say I'm sorry?"

He laughs, surprised. "No. I know you mean it the right way."

" _Sorry you have to deal with all this stuff_?"

"Exactly." He kisses her hair. "Thanks, Clarke."

She squeezes him. "I owed you one."

Octavia gets a full ride at a state school three hours away, and Bellamy spends almost that long trying to compose an ad for a roommate before Clarke says, "You know I don't have to live on campus, right?"

Bellamy blinks. "What?"

"I just checked. Freshmen can live off campus. Just rent Octavia's room to me."

"You don't have to do that," he finally says, after he finishes just sort of working his jaw for a while.

"I know," she says. "But it's not like dorms are great. I like your place, you're close to my school and the train, I'm pretty sure we wouldn't murder each other. You need a roommate, I need a place to live that isn't with my mom, the sooner the better. What's the problem?"

"When you put it like that," he says, and then, "Thanks."

It's surprisingly smooth, living with Bellamy. She's already comfortable in the house and with him. Her mother freaks out, but Clarke figures one of the nice things about being eighteen is that she doesn't have to care as much about her mother freaking out. They split rent and utilities right down the middle, go shopping together once a week, and maintain separate social lives while still watching TV on the couch, just the two of them, a few times a week. Clarke finds she already knew most of his bad habits, which he complains about, because all hers are a surprise. But it's nice, too. They work well together. They get used to each other, and every May, when he renews his lease, he asks if she's going anywhere, and every year, she says she's not.

It's not until her junior year that she decides separating Bellamy from the rest of her life is weird.

"It's a birthday party," she says. "Friends come to birthday parties. You're my friend. And I'm turning twenty-one, so--"

"So I can get drunk with a bunch of college kids, awesome," he teases.

"You already get drunk with me, I'm not sure why adding more people makes it worse. The larger the group, the less pathetic drinking is. It's basic alcohol math."

"I drink with you," Bellamy says carefully. "I don't get drunk with you."

"Oh." He's at the stove, so she just goes over and wraps her arms around him, propping her chin against his shoulder blade. "It's not gonna be, like--remember that asshole who was dating another girl?"

"Are we going to throw shit at him?"

"No, but the other girl is really cool, you're going to like her. Raven, remember? The genius. It's going to be her and my friends Monty and Jasper and my ex-girlfriend Niylah. It's not gonna be some raucous, drunken rager. This is still me, you know. We get tipsy, we don't get wasted." 

Bellamy leans back into her. "I know. I just--you know how it is. College kids."

"I know. You don't have to come. But I'd like you to. You're awesome, Bell. They're going to love you. You can bring Miller, if you want. We'll drink, we'll make fun of each other, we'll all have fun."

"Fine," he says. "But you owe me."

"Yeah, making you celebrate my birthday with me. I'm the worst."

"As long as you realize it."

Clarke's never purposefully kept Bellamy separate from her other friends, it just kind of happened. He started out as an extension of Octavia, so all of their mutual friends knew him, usually as _Octavia's hot brother_ , but she was the only one who ever developed a friendship of her own with him. It was just the kind of friendship where there wasn't really any intersection of their lives except that they liked each other.

It's strangely exhilarating, just introducing him to everyone.

"This is my roommate, Bellamy."

"Hey, guys," he says, with an awkward little wave. He always seemed to have a lot of friends in high school; it took Clarke a while to realize he wasn't really that social, left to his own devices. He's just really competitive, and high school was a non-stop popularity contest that he refused to lose.

It's nice that he's relaxed into just being Bellamy.

"I'm guessing you're Raven," he says, nodding to her. "Monty, Jasper, Niylah?"

"Don't worry, Clarke talks about you enough we could pick you out of a lineup too," Raven says. "Nice to finally meet you."

"You guys too. This is Miller. I take him around with me to prove I have friends."

"He buys my first round, we're not really friends," Miller adds, and Clarke tucks herself into Bellamy's side and _beams_. All her favorite people together for the first time; it's the best birthday ever.

When Bellamy's in the bathroom, Raven turns to Niylah and says, "Fine, okay, you were right."

"What?"

"We couldn't figure out if you were in love with someone else or just bad at relationships, but obviously, yeah."

Clarke blinks. "What?" And then she figures it out. "Oh, no, that's just Bellamy."

"Uh huh."

"You know you haven't let go of him all night, right?"

"Yeah," says Clarke. "But--that's just how we are."

"In love with each other," Niylah supplies.

"No. Friends." She glances around, makes sure that Miller is occupied--playing darts with Monty and Jasper, awesome--and then glares at Raven. "He's just--" The last time she explained Bellamy as anything other than her roommate, she'd said he was her friend's brother, but she lives with Bellamy, sees him every day, and hasn't seen Octavia since Christmas. "He's my best friend."

"And he's super hot and looks at you like he's never seen another girl in his life, so if you're not fucking him, it's a huge waste," Raven says. "Can I do it?"

"Sure," says Clarke, absent. She's still trying to catch up. Mostly the part about how Bellamy looks at her, because--he doesn't, right? Of course he doesn't. 

"Probably wouldn't work," Niylah says, and before anyone can say anything, Bellamy slots back next to Clarke. His arm is around her, like always, and she fits just right under his shoulder.

He's her best friend. It's not _complicated_.

But it's the kind of thing she can't forget. Clarke doesn't think of _herself_ as a particularly tactile person, when it comes to it. It's not like there's anyone else she interacts with like this, no one else she leans into as naturally as breathing. She's dated people, and she's never felt as comfortable with them. Which she figured was normal; dating requires a lot of getting used to people. She's already used to Bellamy. She's been used to being close to Bellamy for six years, and was used to being around him long before that. Just because it's not what she's like with her other friends, it doesn't make it weird.

And she wouldn't mind, if Raven fucked him. It's not like he's never dated anyone. He's had plenty of girlfriends, even went out with Miller for a while, until they both--well, honestly, Clarke's never gotten a great explanation for any of his breakups. Things just don't work out.

Which is usually what happens to her, too. Dating sucks.

But she has to admit, curled up with Bellamy watching a movie the next day, that _this_ wouldn't be bad. She loves Bellamy. Of course she loves Bellamy. She doesn't really know how it happened or when, but--he's her best friend. Her most important person.

If he wanted to make out, she'd--

Okay, yeah, she'd probably make sure he really meant it and wanted to do it a lot more, because she's never thought about kissing Bellamy Blake before, but now that she has, she can't even imagine just doing it once, or for one night.

_I can't believe this_ , she texts Raven and Niylah. _You guys ruined my life._

Raven texts back, _new phone, who dis_ , and Clarke groans and flops onto Bellamy.

"What?"

"Nothing."

He pecks her on the forehead. "It's that you're getting older, right? Twenty-one and you're starting to get achy and shit. Arthritis. Memory loss. The urge to vote republican because you're bitter about dying and want to screw over the next generation."

Clarke laughs, feels her heart pick up when he smiles back. She didn't know. How could she _not_ know?

"You know you're three years older than I am, right?"

"That's why I know what's going to happen. Learn from my wisdom." His smile gentles. "Seriously, happy birthday. Again."

She closes her eyes; she can worry about feelings in the morning. "Thanks."

A week later, she's out for drinks with Raven and Monty while Bellamy's on a date. Which now _sucks_. 

"Seriously, I hate you," she tells Raven.

"Did you think about just, like, asking your hot roommate out?"

"No, because we've been friends since I was twelve. Or--since I was fifteen, I guess. But I've known him since I was twelve. I can't just ask him out."

"So next time you guys are cuddling on the couch, just make a move. Do you guys cuddle on the couch when you're dating other people?"

"It's normal!"

"It's not normal," Monty says. "No one does that."

"We do it."

"Except you don't do it with anyone else. Also, you're totally into him, so, you know. It's definitely just something you do with people you want to make out with."

"You broke me," Clarke says, scowling at her.

"Yeah, but now maybe you can make out with your hot best friend slash cuddle buddy. Which would be way better than whatever you've got going now."

"We have a good thing now," Clarke protests, but--yeah, it would be better with making out. And sex. And--

She bangs her head gently against the bar again, and Raven pets her.

"Seriously, I hate you."

"Yeah, I know."

When Bellamy gets home from his date, she's half asleep on the couch, and he lies down with his head in her lap. She lets her fingers tangle in his hair, rubbing his scalp gently. He closes his eyes, and she takes his glasses off for him.

These are things that shouldn't be familiar.

"Bad date?"

"It was fine, just--fucking exhausting."

Clarke has to smile. "Sucks to be you. Having to interact with strangers for extended periods of time."

"I think I'm giving off the wrong vibes with my Tinder profile."

"You are. You're trying to be cool and confident and mysterious. Just talk about how much you love books and study Latin in your spare time. That's your actual vibe."

"Latin is interesting," he grumbles. "And I'm cool."

"The coolest."

He opens one eye to glare at her. "I had a bad night. Didn't you used to be comforting?"

"Nope. That's you." He smiles and closes his eyes again, settling in, and Clarke worries her lip. "What are you looking for?"

"Hm?"

"On Tinder."

"I don't know. Someone I can relax around and like."

"You liked Miller."

"Yeah. But--didn't work out."

Her life isn't going to get better if she pretends this never happened. If she tries to go back to how it was before, she's just going to fail. Her life might get worse, if she tells him, but--

"Apparently Raven and Niylah thought me and Niylah didn't work out because there was someone else."

"Huh."

"They decided it was you."

He tenses, but not in an uncomfortable way. His expression doesn't say he's upset; it looks like he's guilty. "Yeah?"

"Apparently we cuddle a lot."

"I had no idea."

"You like me. You can relax around me. You're _always_ relaxed around me."

"Not right now," he mutters, and he's blushing a little under his freckles.

When she leans down to press her lips against his, he makes a soft noise, but his hand tangles in her hair, and he kisses back, slow and long and warm. It's familiar too, almost, just because--even as it's new and perfect and overwhelming, she knows him. She knew how he'd be, even without ever letting herself really think about it.

"You better not be drunk or I'll fucking cry," he murmurs.

"I'm not. Sit up, my neck hurts."

He laughs, tugs her until they're stretched out on the couch, her against his side. They fit together at every point, legs tangled, her face just under his jaw. "Since your birthday?" he asks.

"Yeah."

"Good."

She pulls back to look at him, but he kisses her again instead of answering. "Longer for me," he admits. "So--good to know it's not a whim."

"I wouldn't do that," she says, but she gets it, too. "It's been a lot longer, I'm pretty sure. I just--this is how we are, right?"

"Yeah. This is how we are."

The next morning, she wakes up in his arms, which she's done a thousand times, but this time they're in a bed and he's just wearing his boxers and she's in the first t-shirt of his she found to pull on. His mouth is slightly open against her neck, and she can feel his dick against her leg.

She turns around and snuggles in closer to his chest. 

"We have to get up eventually," he says, pressing his lips to her hair. "I have shit to do today. We can't just stay here forever."

"Yeah we can," she says. "Just this, forever."

His laugh is soft and rough and she has no idea how it took her so long to notice how she felt, when there's no one else in the world who comes close to Bellamy. "Yeah," he agrees. "I think we can do that."


End file.
